


Star Stained

by SeraphimSilver



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Black Paladin Keith (Voltron), Blue Paladin Allura (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Depression, Descriptions of Wanting to Commit Violence, F/M, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Former Paladins, Korean Keith (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Mentions of Other Voltron Paladins, Mentions of Violence, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Red Paladin Lance (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-27 16:22:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10812600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeraphimSilver/pseuds/SeraphimSilver
Summary: After Zarkon's seeming defeat and the disappearance of Shiro, Voltron has seen a major shake up in pilot assignments. Keith is struggling to fill Shiro's role as Black Paladin. Allura is struggling to connect with Blue. And Lance, as always, is struggling to be a match for Keith. When the struggles become too much and leave the team broken, the only hope may lie in an unexpected return from Voltron's past.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "I'd collect all the stars,  
> if that's the only thing  
> I'd have to do  
> to see that light in your eyes  
> again"  
> -k.j. (from Poems and Words Tumblr)
> 
> First ever fic. Please be gentle.

Slowly, she returned to her senses.

The touch of the breeze came first, cool, with just a bite of the great ice that dwelled several days journey from her village. The breeze brought with it the scent of the rich dark soil of the prairie, flavored with the toasted scent of grass dry in the high summer’s heat. Sound hurried behind, the breeze rustling through the grass until it seemed as if she were surrounded by whispers on all sides. A brook babbled cheerfully nearby. Light pressed down fuzzily, until she became aware that she had eyes to open.

Carefully, she cracked her eyelids apart, attempting to not blind herself with the bright sunlight. She barely had them open before she squeezed them shut again and flung an arm across her face, softly cursing the midday sun shining almost directly into her eyes. Why was she awake? Clearly she had plenty of time before she was due home with something for the dinner fire and the herbs for the shaman’s medicines. It was a rare free day when she was not expected to help her mother with some mundane chore or to sit in the shaman’s hut listening attentively to the knowledge he deemed her ready to learn. Not that she didn’t enjoy the learning; few things fascinated her like the shaman’s potions or his stories of the Spirit Fields and its denizens. But she needed this quiet solitude, a chance to sort and mull over the new knowledge and compare it to the knowledge she already possessed, without the frequent tugging on her tunic by younger siblings or the crow-racket of busybody aunties berating her for being a terrible daughter.

Here was quiet, and peaceful. Here, no one could find her…

“Daughter.”

Almost no one could find her. There was one person who always seemed to know where she could be found, where she had roamed on these solitary days. She lifted the arm across her face, shading her eyes as she turned to look to the person sitting next to her. She smiled. “Zelen,” she greeted the shaman. Then she frowned. Why was he here? He rarely sought her out on these days, unless there was a crisis in the village he needed her assistance for. True, there was an air of urgency around him, but it seemed different to his usual posture when someone was injured or suddenly became ill.

She let her arm fall to the side as she studied him. He sat next to her, legs crossed lotus style, staring at her. No, not quite at her, she realized. His eyes were slightly out of focus, as if he could see something that was not there. Her eyes widened. A vision. He was receiving a vision from the spirits.

“Zelen?” She spoke cautiously. Questioning a shaman while they received a vision was a tricky endeavor. At best, they could lose the vision and any information the spirits were trying to impart. At worst, their soul could be pushed through the breach through the Fields and become trapped, leaving their body to live the rest of its days a broken shell. Even moving too much near an entranced shaman could be dangerous, so she stayed in her prone position, waiting to see if he would speak. She didn’t have long to wait.

“Daughter,” Zelen said again. “They are reawakening.”

She frowned. Who were reawakening? She opened her mouth to question him, only to be distracted by a sudden cold sting in the palm of her outstretched hand. She turned her head to see what was in her hand and felt her eyes widen. It was a hailstone, a chunk of ice the size of the walnuts the village women gathered every fall.

“Daughter,” Zelen spoke again. “They are rising.”

She turned her eyes to the sky, perplexed how a solitary hailstone could fall from such a clear sky. She sat up with a gasp. Instead of the vibrant blue of midday, the sky was the deep velvet black of night. Even stranger, it was lit not by the solitary pearlescent white moon she knew, but by two moons, the larger red as ochre powder, and the smaller a soft yellow. Even the stars were different from the ones she had grown up with, and yet, strangely, she felt as if she knew these ones as well.

“Daughter.” 

She tore her eyes from the unfamiliar-and-yet-not stars to look at him, body quivering in anticipation. She felt her breath catch in her throat as her heart hammered against her ribs.

“They are reborn.”

The prairie thrummed in vibration underneath her, shaking her to her bones. Chasing behind was a sound she knew, had known since the day she was born, would know if she lived a thousand lifetimes under a thousand different moons. The roar of lions. 

She scrambled to her feet, wrapping her belt around her waist. She bent down and scooped up the spear that she had forgotten laid by her side. A fleeting thought and it shimmered and changed shape, a crescent spanned by a handle set just within the two points. She clipped it to a hook on her belt. She needed to move, fast, and carrying the spear would slow her. She stumbled, body protesting moving after so long, much too long, but soon racing over the prairie, running, running as memories flowed into her mind-

A great beast. An impossible journey. An even more impossible world, worlds, filled with peoples she could never dreamed existed. Fellow warriors, friends, lovers, enemies. A mighty enemy, bent on enslaving the whole of creation. A desperate plan, an abandoned bond. An endless, agonizing wait, protecting the last hope of all things. A duty she had sworn to uphold, a duty, a destiny, a dream to be fulfilled.

She ran, never looking back at that place near the brook, a place where a man who considered her a daughter would find her, a place and a man long disappeared, long forgotten, except for a time here in the Spirit Fields. Without her there to anchor the memories they shimmered and broke down into the spirit material that formed every thing in this place. The bits hung suspended, glittering, for a moment, then shot away, scattering to all corners of the endless astral realm, carrying a message, one word, one hope that all could still, perhaps, be saved…

_“Voltron.”_

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

When he was still at the Garrison, he had decided that his personal hell, his unique torture to punish him for living a carefree and semi-hedonistic life, would be to be stuck in an endless simulation, crashing over and over again while Hunk puked in random consoles, Pidge sassed him, and Iverson continuously berated him for never measuring up to a certain golden boy-turned-dropout.

He no longer believed that. In fact, if all he had to endure was Hunk’s regurgitated beef stroganoff and Iverson’s tirades, he would consider it a _mercy_ compared to what he was enduring now. As far as Lance was concerned, attempting to pilot the Red Lion was hell on earth. Or in space. Whatever. The bottom line was, Lance was obviously in the wrong damn lion. Or, at least it was obvious to him. He was pretty sure it was obvious to Hunk and Pidge, and even Allura and Coran. Hell, the _space mice_ could probably figure this out. Apparently, though, their blockhead asshole of a fearless leader was fucking blind to this simple truth.

He gritted his teeth as he attempted to pull the joysticks just enough to swerve out of the path of the asteroid without steering himself into another one. Red’s controls were insanely sensitive to movement; he swore he could sneeze on one and end up taking a sharp turn. No sooner had he changed Red’s direction, though, than he was swearing harshly and yanking the controls in the opposite direction. It wasn’t quick enough, however, and he ended up sideswiping the second asteroid. His comm crackled to life.

“Goddammit, Lance!” Ah, there was the fearless leader now. “What the hell are you playing at? We can’t afford to have a lion down because of your shitty piloting skills!”

Lance clenched his jaw again. _I know that, Keith,_ he thought to himself. He didn’t dare say it out loud. He was having enough problems without trying to split his attention between flying Red and shouting down her former pilot. He moved the controls again, and managed to zigzag his way out of the asteroid field with only a few more minor bumps. Once he cleared the last of the rocks he brought Red to a stop and took a deep breath, trying to calm his stretched nerves.

A questioning thrum vibrated in his mind. He smiled tiredly. “I’m ok, girl,” he replied to the lion, “and I’m really sorry about getting your nice paint job all scratched up again.” He tipped his head back against the seat. This was the third time in as many days he’d attempted piloting through this field, at Keith’s insistence, and he really wasn’t feeling like he was getting any better at handling Red. In fact, if he were to be honest, he thought he might actually be getting _worse_. He just didn’t seem to have that weird instinct Keith seemed to possess, that let him do insane things like pilot through an asteroid field and skate between the event horizons of a pair of black holes. Having to admit that Keith Kogane was, in fact, a superior pilot was a bitter pill to swallow.

He’d rather choke down the regurgitated stroganoff.

His comm crackled again. “Lance, buddy, you ok out there?” Hunk’s worried voice came over the line this time. 

Lance sighed. “Yeah, man, we’ll be heading back in a moment.” He sat up straight and reached out to take Red’s controls again.

“Well don’t take too long.” Hunk suddenly sounded nervous. Then he dropped his voice. “Keith went down to the hangar. He looked twitchy and ready to explode. Be careful, man.” With that, Hunk signed off.

Lance groaned. Just his luck. He was already exhausted from this little practice flight, having to stand through another of Keith’s rants was going to push him to his limit. He sighed and turned Red in the direction of the castle. The sooner he got back, the sooner Keith could deliver his tirade and the sooner he’d be able to escape to his room and a hot shower. 

A few minutes later he was back in Red’s hangar, helmet off and standing at attention while Keith bitched him out for the hundredth time since taking over as leader of Voltron. It was pretty much recycled material- Lance had no control, he had no situational awareness, how were they going to go into battle if Lance was just going to bounce off every ship in a Galra fleet. Lance didn’t reply. He’d stopped trying to come up smart-assed replies and jokes after being forced to endure about a dozen of these dressing-downs. He simply kept his gaze on a point on the far wall, waiting for Keith to wind down and stomp away like he always did.

After what seemed to be an eternity Keith seemed to have finally run out of steam. “You’re running that field again tomorrow, got it? For the rest of the day your scrawny ass better be on the damned training deck, understand?”

Lance nodded. “Yes, sir,” he replied quietly. Keith narrowed his eyes and stared at him, clearly trying to figure out if he was being sarcastic. He needn’t have bothered; Lance hadn’t had the energy, never mind the will, to be sarcastic for awhile now. Keith huffed and turned on his heel, muttering as he made his way to the hangar exit. Lance turned to begin the post flight check on Red.

_“Mutter mutter...fucking useless...mutter…”_  
Lance stilled, shocked. Every joint in his body felt locked into place. He couldn’t catch his breath, and his gut felt hollowed out. It wasn’t until he heard the door closing that his body felt released. He swayed and nearly fell to his knees before he threw his hand out to grab at Red’s claw. He was gasping and shaking as a single word repeated itself in his mind-

_Useless...useless...useless..._

His relatives. His teachers. Iverson. And now Keith joined the chorus that always ran like background noise in his mind.

_Useless._ Such a disappointing son he was.

_Useless._ A terrible student who’d never amount to anything.

_Useless._ A second-rate replacement.

_Useless._ Fucking useless…

…

_...Lance?..._

He felt a nudge in his mind, interrupting the litany. He took as deep a breath as he could, then a second one, and straightened himself up. He patted Red’s claw. “I’m ok,” he said, his voice still thready with anxiety. “I need to do your check...I’m ok, I’m ok,” he mumbled to himself, going through the motions of checking over the lion.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Red watched from the astral realm as Lance walked out of her hangar. There was a droop to his shoulders she didn’t like, as if he’d suddenly been saddled with a great weight. The words her cub had spoken, no doubt. She adored Keith and the youthful blaze that burned so fiery in him, but she hated it when he let it run wild over his friends. Moreover, she felt it had been getting worse since the disappearance of Shiro, and Keith’s insistence that he was supposed to step into the role of the Black Paladin. His insistence on Lance being the Red Paladin was also odd. Lance was an extraordinary pilot, very close to Keith’s skill. But he just didn’t fit. He didn’t burn, he flowed. And that flow seemed to be growing sluggish lately.

She remembered another Blue cub who became sluggish in despair, until her heart became frozen. The pride was so cold for so long...She shivered at the memories. 

Then she realized the shivering was not in her memories.

Blue was approaching, a whirling blizzard of anger heralding her arrival.

Red turned to warily watch her mate’s approach. Blue being angry was a thing to be feared, especially given that it happened so rarely. Out of the five entities that made the guardian deity Voltron, the Blue Spirit of Water and Ice was the most easy going. She tended to be the most open with her paladins, giving them gentle nudges to improve their skills rather than harsh criticism like Red or repetitive training like Yellow. Even in battle she rarely showed anger or frustration, moving with the flow of battle and easily changing course as tactics demanded.

She was slow to anger, but when it did come she became an implacable force of nature, the warm flow of her goodwill freezing until it became glacial. And like the great glaciers her anger was slow to dissipate. Even Black, head of Voltron and leader of their pride, tread carefully when Blue was well and truly angry.

“What has that boy done to my cub?” Blue hissed, her tone sending a shiver down Red’s spine. “Every time your cub speaks Lance’s spirit cracks a little more, but today it seemed a whole piece broke completely away! If this keeps up Lance will lose lose himself completely, and will not be able to be anyone’s paladin! You need to straighten that boy out before everything is lost!”

Red breathed a gentle puff of warm air over her mate, attempting to calm her a bit before her energy had a chance to bleed into the solid world and cause effects that would be...difficult, to explain. Then she sighed. “I have tried,” she explained, “several times. Keith insisted he is simply trying to train Lance to be able to “adequately” pilot me. And now…” she sighed again. “Now he is refusing to talk to me. He said he and Lance needed to work on forging bonds with their new lions.” She dropped heavily to her stomach, resting her chin on her paws.

Blue breathed out her own sigh and laid down next to her, snuggling up to her side. Red was pleased to feel the near-freezing cold of her anger beginning to fade. “Lance told me the same thing,” Blue said sadly. “He said Allura needed to be able to bond with me without being distracted by the bond he had with me.”

“How are things going with Allura?” Red asked, genuinely curious.

Blue groaned. “Terrible. There were reasons we didn’t choose her as a paladin all those years ago,” she said mournfully.

“That bad?”

“She doesn’t...flow, like a blue cub should,” Blue said. “She’s too reserved, too caught up in dignity and decorum. She’s less like a river and more like...one of those fountains people are so fond of putting in their structured gardens. Water flows, but only in a certain pattern, at a certain rate. There’s no way to change it. It’s frustrating. And she won’t listen to me!” Blue’s voice gained an edge of agitation. “She really thinks she knows all she needs to know to be a paladin, and she gets cross with me whenever I try to offer any suggestions or advice. It feels...it feels like she doesn’t really see me as a partner, an equal. Just, that I’m just another piece of machinery that happens to have superior software.” She dropped her head to her paws. “I miss my Lance,” she said in a quiet, sad voice.

Red nuzzled Blue’s cheek, purring softly. “I understand,” she said. “I miss Keith dearly. Lance is doing his best, even our bond has formed well. But he is just not my paladin, and he knows it. I am worried for him, for all of our cubs. I don’t think any of them realize just how integral the Blue Paladin is to the health of the pride. Lance doesn’t confide in me, but I can feel through the bond the beginnings of despair. I am afraid of his heart freezing, and what it will do to the pride.”

A shudder rippled down Blue’s body. “That was a terrible time,” she whispered.

Red nodded. “I was thinking, Lance reminds me in many ways of your last cub,” she said softly.

Blue was silent for several moments. When she spoke again it was soft and tinged with guilt. “When I felt the paladins entering the cave where I was hidden, a small part of me sincerely hoped she had returned to me.”

Red felt her eyebrows raise. “We were in hiding for millennia,” she said. “I remember her lifespan had been significantly extended, but surely she has been long gone by now.”

Blue shook her head. “She swore to me- she swore she had a way to remain, and keep watch over us, to ensure only our paladins would find us,” she said fiercely. “If anyone could have found a way to keep such a promise, it would have been my little lioness.”

Red pondered this. It was true, the young woman had been a very determined, even stubborn, person. It would not be too surprising to find she still lived simply because she willed it so.

Besides, the odds of all five paladins being of one species, found on the same world, at the same time, were so astronomical Green was surely still calculating them. And the traitor Paladin had found a way to survive all these years. If that were possible, who was to say another former paladin couldn’t have found another way to survive for so long? Particularly one who was as knowledgeable and resourceful as the former Blue cub.

“Perhaps you are right, my love,” she said slowly. “Your little one was extraordinary in many ways, after all. Perhaps she is still out there, somewhere, making her way back to us.”

Calmer now, Blue snuggled up close to her mate with a contented sigh. Red nuzzled her cheek again before laying her head across Blue’s neck. As she drifted off to sleep, she idly contemplated the likelihood of an ancient paladin reappearing. It still seemed so far-fetched, but if there were still even a slim possibility, perhaps it should be held onto.

After all, that one of the greatest of the ancient paladins of Voltron would have come from such a primitive world as Earth had once been a far-fetched idea as well.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "And I'm quiet, despite all the raging in my head."
> 
> -Hands Like Houses, "Weight"

She lightly trailed her fingertips over the ancient carvings. She could still feel the the last dregs of magic that had been released. That was a good sign- the runes weren’t supposed to activate unless the correct paladin were present. She traced the carvings that depicted a particular astronomical event. All the evidence she had observed so far indicated the runes had been activated at approximately the right time. She remembered how anxious she had been creating that particular scene- divination was an extremely difficult art, and trying to pinpoint an exact time for something to occur was nearly impossible, given the malleability of the future. Even the most mundane of decisions could radically alter a predicted outcome.

 

She followed the path of the carvings until she came to the break in the cave floor and lightly jumped down. What was a river in the solid world appeared here as a shimmering blue path she could walk on. She followed it deeper into the cave, pleased to see the others swarming the cave had not made it this far yet. She could feel them on the other side of the boundary- men and women who styled themselves as warriors and shamans. To her they were children playacting their elders’ roles. She knew that even the oldest of these so-called “warriors” had never been on a true battlefield, let alone had shed any blood. As for the shamans, the scholars, it was obvious their sight was too narrow, too fixed in the solid world to see the truths before them.

 

She wondered what sort of paladin could possibly have been engendered by such people. 

 

She continued following the path until she reached the cavern where she had left the lion so long ago. She had not set foot here since that day, indeed had not dared come anywhere near this world for fear of being tracked and unwittingly leading the enemy to this safe place. It had torn her heart anew every day, to impose such an exile on herself, away from her closest companion, but the stakes had been too high. She had sworn to protect, and she had sacrificed too much to fail in her duty. She gazed around the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of the paladin’s energy- then stopped short and gasped. Because there was not a single paladin’s energy.

 

There were  _ five _ paladins’ energies.

 

And every single one appeared to be human.

 

She crept closer to where the impressions of energies hung in the air, scarcely daring to breathe lest she disrupt this tableau. Her mind was whirling and she felt slightly dizzy. She had expected, when she had brought the lion here, that her successor would possibly be another of her own kind- the blue lion had insisted on coming here to hide after all. But the Guardian’s paladins were chosen from all corners of the universe. Even two paladins of the same species was extremely unusual. And yet here was irrefutable evidence, five of her own kind had been chosen. She wondered if this was why it had taken so long to reveal the lion. Surely worthy candidates had lived the past 10,000 years! And yet, the Guardian had chosen to wait until all five successors were of the same world, existing at the same place, at the same time. She wondered at the significance of that.

 

She reached out her hand to the closest of the energies. This was the Yellow Paladin; she could feel the warmth and concern, and the stability and grounding the Yellow brought to the group. Young, but a strong heart and soul. She laughed as she reached out to touch the next one, because it had reached out to touch her. Yes, this was the Green, always seeking, always questioning, always wanting to know, the boundless energy and enthusiasm tickling over her skin. Child-like in many respects, but very mature in other ways. She wondered what discoveries this little one had already made.

 

She moved to the next energy, but hesitated before reaching out. There was a tingle running across the back of her neck, some instinct trying to send a quiet warning. She slowly reached out and cautiously made contact-

 

And swiftly pulled her hand back as if burned, hissing.

 

_ Sorcery.  _ Galran sorcery, she was sure of it.

 

She frowned. She’d seen nothing to indicate the Galra had invaded her world. The strongest evidence for that was the small army of humans in the upper cave. If the Galra were here, they would be _ here, _ supervising the humans. And if they had happened to find the lion, no humans would have been allowed within a hundred miles of this place.

 

So how did this human have Galran sorcery on his person?

 

She cautiously reached out again. Now that she knew what to expect, she was able to easily deflect the burn of sorcerous energy and focus on the paladin’s energy. Her brow lifted in surprise. This was the Black? With Galran influence in his energies? After the harsh betrayal they had endured, she did not think the Black Lion would be so easy to accept such a person. And yet...She allowed her fingers to trail through the energy. Young, just at the cusp of being considered a true adult. But strong. She could feel where his heart and soul had been repeatedly cracked, broken, worn down. He was not whole, but she could feel where he had struggled to endure, to rebuild himself.  _ This _ was a true warrior, someone who could lead not because he had been given fancy titles and baubles meant to imply respect, but because he had  _ earned _ that respect.

 

Now she understood why he was the Black Paladin.

 

She lingered there for a few moments more, letting her fingers run through the energy. She didn’t know why, but she felt...reluctant to move on. Something about this individual had roused her curiosity and intrigued her. She concentrated harder, attempting tease out some clue why she found this one so fascinating. The further in she delved the more she could feel of him- safe, solid, caring, calm, strong, intelligent, compassionate, self-sacrificing-

 

_ Blood. _

 

There.

 

_ Battle _ .

 

That was the siren song that had captivated her.

 

_ A flash of gold. A smirk of sharp white. A howl of mocking laughter. _

 

A shiver danced up her spine-

 

_ A Shadow Self. _

 

-but not from fear.

 

She did not fear Shadow Selves. All people had them, herself included. She had made peace with hers; most people did not. Then again, most Shadow Selves were fairly weak, a bit of darkness tucked away in a quiet corner of a soul, wielding little influence as a person went about their life. However, there were some that, through one means or another, gained enough strength to be a threat, twisting the soul into something dark unless they were tamed.

 

And within this seemingly docile black lion lay a wild and untamed predator.

 

That was not what concerned her.

 

What concerned her, was the reaction of her own Self. Dormant for years, yet so quickly pulled into awareness by this other. Few things outside of a hunt or battle could rile her other self like this. She didn’t understand this feeling, this pull on her soul. Was it because the Shadows shared similar passions? Perhaps. Well, it was good to know this. Now, she could take care in her interactions with him, keeping herself well reigned in. Perhaps even training him how to bring his Shadow Self under firmer control. Yes, she nodded to herself, teaching him how to quell the Shadow would make him a better paladin as well.

 

Pleased with her conclusions, she turned to the next energy signature. She could feel the heat rolling off this one as she moved closer. The Red, then. The fire in his soul burned fierce and strong- and nearly out of control. This one could be a force for change, a forge to reshape the universe. But right now, he was more a prairie fire, burning unchecked and threatening everything in his path. Well, that was not unusual for young Reds. The weight of the responsibilities of being a paladin would temper some of that fire by itself, and a firm guiding hand would accomplish much more. And then, there was one more factor in keeping the Red to a slow burn…

 

She turned to the last energy signature. She had deliberately left this one to the end. Her successor. The one they had waited so many years for. The point the others would move around, the flow that would keep Voltron real and sustained. The paladin of water and ice, and with it the paladin of dreams, of hopes and fears, of emotions. The paladin of the deep mind known as the subconscious. The Blue Paladin.

 

Immediately she could feel he was a different sort than her. A child of the age of the great ice mountains, her energy had always held a touch of the cold that had shaped so much of her early life. Not enough to immediately alienate everyone around her, but enough to make them hesitate, unsure if they wanted to engage with her. After all, most people did not enjoy swimming in frigid waters, even when the day was hot. The result was that most people missed the warm center of her soul, hidden under the outer sheen of ice.

 

This one though...Her first thought was of the sun shining on a blue sea. Warm, gentle, crystal clear. A soul that invited everyone in, a joyful soul, full of love and caring for his fellows. Someone who wanted everyone around him to be happy, taken care of, calmed and soothed. A capacity for sharing and giving that was as boundless as the seas. 

 

But…

 

She dug deeper, searching to find the very core of the soul. What she found did not surprise her- a mass of ice. Small, or at least it was when he was here. Hopefully it had not grown much in the time since. This ice was a danger to the Blue Paladins, because this was the representation of their doubts, their fears, their insecurities, their feelings of hopelessness, their deepest depressions. Voltron had lost one Blue Paladin to this soul ice; she herself had struggled with it at times. It was dangerous in large part because it was nearly impossible to detect until it was nearly too late- the paladin would continue to give of themselves, but would refuse to take anything back from their fellow paladins, leading to a loss of emotional warmth and a gradual freezing of the soul. If left unchecked, it could seriously cripple the Guardian and its paladins.

 

A chill rolled up her arm as she contemplated this ice. An impression flitted across her mind- something was wrong. It felt as if her consciousness was beginning to freeze around the edges, growing and growing and…

 

She yanked her hand away from the energy. The impression of wrongness stayed with her though. It was clear what needed to be done. She turned and made her way out of the cavern, up the shimmering blue path, and out of the cave. Out in the expanse of the Spirit Fields, she paused and breathed in deep. When she exhaled, she pushed her perceptions out with the breath, extending them in all directions. In, out, in, out, further and further, until finally, just beyond the border of Sol’s fields, she could feel the faint traces of a certain magic- a gateway. A wormhole, others had called it. It would be the first marker in her race to find the Guardian and its paladins. Because she needed to find them, soon, sooner, _ now _ .

 

Her successor, the bright, warm boy of the blue seas, was freezing.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

It had fallen apart.

_ And if that’s not a metaphor for what’s happening around here, I don’t know what is, _ Hunk thought morosely as he stared at his latest attempt to make a passable strawberry cake. The vivid orange chunks mounded on and scattered around the cake platter almost seemed to be mocking him. This was his third attempt this week, and he was beginning to feel discouraged. Usually he had fun experimenting with the different alien ingredients he always managed to sweet talk Coran into buying for him, even when the result was less than spectacular. But this was different. This was something he absolutely needed to get right, and now.

Because this was for Lance.

It hadn’t escaped Hunk’s notice that there was something wrong with Lance. They’d been best friends for years, after all. Which was also how Hunk knew that no matter what, Lance wasn’t going to actually confide in him, Hunk was going to have to drag it out of him. Hence the strawberry cake. It was one of Lance’s absolute favorite things. Hunk figured if he could give his friend a little taste of home, he would have a better chance of getting Lance to open up to him. Not that he didn’t have some idea already of what was troubling the Blue Paladin.

He frowned as he began sweeping up pitiful cake pieces and dumping them into the food waste receptacle. Technically, Lance wasn’t the Blue Paladin anymore, he was the Red Paladin. Why he was supposed to be the Red Paladin was a mystery to Hunk and, he was sure, the rest of the team. Keith becoming the Black Paladin sort of made sense, since apparently Shiro had wanted him to take over leadership if the worst happened. Which apparently it had. Considering they didn’t have any idea of where to search for him, Shiro disappearing was pretty much the same as Shiro actually dying. For all they knew, Shiro was actually dead wherever he was, which pretty much made it the worst possible scenario. Unless, somehow, he’d ended up captured by the Galra again. Maybe he was being experimented on again. Maybe they had taken his other arm, or his legs. Maybe they had thrown him back in the arena. Or maybe the Druids were brainwashing him and were going to send him against his former teammates. Maybe…

_ Breathe, dear. _

A warm, solid voice broke through his thoughts. Yellow. He hadn’t noticed, but he was breathing in short gasps, his anxiety fueled imagination getting the better of him again.

_ Ground yourself. You are the immovable earth. _

He breathed in slowly. Then breathed out. He repeated the exercise several times, until he could feel his pulse slow. He sent a thanks to his lion, who sent a pleased purr back to him. He had to admit, having a mental link with the Lion of Earth was a pretty good thing. He’d suffered from anxiety for years, and tended to get caught up in his thoughts,trapped by the scenarios his mind just could not stop coming up with. He had thought it would would be weird to have someone always in his head, but Yellow was very unobtrusive. Usually the only time she spoke to him outside of battle or bonding were times like this, when he needed a nudge to help calm himself down. The result was that he was suffering from less anxiety attacks, which was nice. It meant in part, that he was more comfortable piloting Yellow and engaging in battle. He sometimes felt as if he were beginning to build the kind of connection to Yellow that Lance had with Blue.

Well, that Lance  _ had _ had with Blue. Keith had pretty much ordered Lance to quit communicating with Blue and focus on bonding with Red. Lance had said that he’d managed to establish a pretty good bond with Red, but it didn't seem to be helping his piloting any. Honestly though, it was kind of surprising that Red was letting anybody other than Keith pilot her, especially considering how devoted she seemed to be to him, rushing off to his rescue at the slightest hint of danger. Blue had definitely been a lot less willing to take Allura as her new paladin. It had taken several days, and some extensive soothing from Lance, to get her to open up to the princess. Even now, Allura didn’t seem to be bonding well with the lion, which she found odd since Blue was supposed to be the “most accepting” out of all the lions. The problems with bonding were causing problems with forming Voltron. It had been sheer luck they hadn’t run into any situations where they needed the giant robot, because whether they’d be able to form it was seriously up for question.

The continuing problems were obviously setting Keith more and more on edge. Hunk was privately beginning to wonder if maybe Keith was becoming overwhelmed by the responsibility that had been thrust upon him. Never social to begin with, nowadays the team barely saw him outside of their official duties. And when they did...well, it really wasn’t pleasant for any of them. Keith had even begun snapping at Allura, although she seemed to be taking it in stride and giving his behavior some leeway.

Lance, though…

Out of all of them, Lance seemed to be the one being pushed the hardest to fit into his new role, and taking the brunt of Keith’s frustrations. Hours that weren’t spent running drills with Red were 

spent on the training deck, shooting down training bot after training bot. And while there had been some improvement with the Lance’s handling of Red, and even more with his marksmanship, it just never seemed to be good enough for Keith.

At first, Lance had seemed to treat it as a challenge, a chance to prove he was just as good or even better than his so-called rival. But it had been weeks since Shiro had disappeared and Keith had taken charge, and now Lance just seemed to be...wilting. He didn’t chatter incessantly at mealtimes. He didn’t come to pester Hunk in the kitchen for snacks or tastes of dinner. He didn’t hunt down Pidge to beg her to find alien movies to download to the ship’s computers. He barely protested when Coran assigned him to scrubbing down the cryopods. He didn’t flirt with any cute aliens, not even Allura. Perhaps worst of all...he hadn’t had an argument with Keith in weeks, or even boasted about how he could fly Red so much better.  It hadn’t gone unnoticed by the others. He knew Allura and Coran thought it was a reaction to Shiro’s disappearance, that he was  _ maturing _ into a proper paladin.

Hunk knew better.

A quiet Lance wasn’t something to be celebrated.

Because it meant bad things were happening in Lance’s head. And if he couldn’t be yanked out of the spiral…

The sound of an alarm crashed through his thoughts. Months of newly ingrained habits had him racing to Yellow’s hangar even as Coran’s voice over the intercom exhorted them to get to the lions. Hunk put thoughts of Lance and strawberry cakes out of his head.

  
  


⁂ ⁂ ⁂

The battle had been won. Barely, and every single lion had taken a pounding, every paladin a mass of bruises that would render them stiff for days if they didn’t make use of the healing pods. But they had won the day, and had done it without forming Voltron once again.

Yellow felt she should be pleased that the paladins were becoming experienced enough that they didn’t need to rely on the giant robot for every battle. She was proud of the progress her own cub was making. Hunk had so jittery and anxiety-ridden when she had first chosen him, so convinced he couldn’t possibly be the type of person who could go out and do something heroic. She had been patient with him, gently prodding him out of his shell, encouraging him and praising him for every small gain he made, every new ability he unlocked. She also had to admit it was nice to have a paladin with such a wondrous mechanical talent. Like her sisters, she preferred to have her paladin to be the one to care for her needs, including maintenance and repairs, but not all paladins were blessed with a head for machinery. Her last cub certainly had not been, which, considering how many hands she had to work with, had been a bit of a disappointment.

Still, the inability to form Voltron was becoming worrisome. It was likely the Galra were aware of the changes in paladins, and with consistently failing to form Voltron it likely wouldn’t be too difficult to deduce that there were problems with the changes. They hadn’t faced anything tougher than the Galran battlecruisers since Zarkon’s defeat, but that could change at any time, and they had yet to defeat a robeast without Voltron. Yellow wasn’t sure if it was even possible to do so. Hagar had been fairly powerful even 10,000 years ago, and the millenia seemed to have only strengthened and refined her powers. Likely the only person who could match Hagar at this point would be another quintessence user of similar ability. Allura had the potential, but she had discovered her power too recently to be a true match for the witch.

If only Alfor hadn’t sent them away! Everything would have been much simpler to handle before Zarkon and Hagar gained so much power. They would have had paladins who knew Zarkon, knew how he thought, how he battled, and would have been able to act accordingly. Even Hagar wouldn’t have been difficult to deal with, not with the former Blue cub. Her ability to wield quintessence had always been stunning, especially for someone who was considered a “primitive” species. It had been more than enough to allow her to stand toe-to-toe with the witch and neutralize her and even defeat her. They needed someone like that now, but who could match a witch who had been practicing her arts for millennia?

The sound of doors opening pulled her from her thoughts. She perked up as she watched Hunk and Pidge walk into the hangar. Now that she wasn’t distracted by her musings she could feel the soreness in her body, corresponding to the places her physical form had been hit in the battle. She turned her attention to the two paladins, letting their maintenance work wash the depressing thoughts out of her mind as she communicated with Hunk where exactly she was damaged and advising him how to repair it. Only one thought refused to leave:

They still needed to regain the ability to form Voltron.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and/or kudos would be lovely. :)


End file.
